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I » b' tor* l> Hanila. (A^KWiK wail over the oacaix) ot HUppory Hocwllei Mo»>rigle, of|C l iic>go.) <aiX< Onci' tlieru waj4 a boodler Viho thouKbt hod lUieto" Kjuoal." 80 he told the Ktato'aatturaey 'Nd talked to othen a good doal ; iiut all he ever told thtnii Thev already koew al>aut, t'or a boodler will fool ye, â- r.jrr.if \ou DOD t VSitch Oulf And one day be told the nherifT That he longed to take a wash. And In hia own hoinu bath-tub Have a good nld-faahioni^d plash. bat when the aheriff'slHick ivas (nrnod, He up and hooked it out, I-'nr a lioodtor uill fuol yu Yoii • Dont Watch Onl. Theu the bheriO railed tlio ueighborv. And ueektHl him up and dowu, Ih tho barn, in tubH and l>oxeN. And everywhere in town. But they couldn't Dud his ahadow, N\ir the hole that he went out, Kora iKwdler (oola ye inlnhtv bad , When Vou Don't Watch Out. bi. t Ihcre'a a do ^eu otl:or h lodlor^ Looking pale and far from gay, TThat coon* inUi court and Mi tlit*re Nice and regular every day. But \Then tlie trial'a ni'artir dono Aud conviction aeuina more sure. They may take to lookinit fondly At the open court-room door. And Kotue day they'll turn up mlsaiuK, They could do it, never doubt. Fir the Iwodler s mighty slippiry When Yoti Doo'i Watch Ont. Nothin' to Say. Mothin' lOMV. my danKhtvrl M»thUi' at alllto My *^ Ciria tiiat'x in Iot*. I've noticed, Rincrly has their %et n-oiber did, at»re you, when tier talks ob- jected to lueâ€" Vit here I aM,, and here you airt aud yer inotbnr â€"where is aha'? Vou I^ook lou like your mother ; |>urty much rktuelnalre: â- lOut the aaine comploc^ted: and favor about the eyea. liike 'her. Kmi, about livia' here, l>t'caui« ahu couldii'tatay; tt'II 'laMt aeem like y<iu wae dead like tier !â€" but I balu t got nothin' to aayl She left you her little Bible -writ yer name acroHt the page- Knd ihe left her ear bob* far yau, ef over you come of age. Cvi) allua kep' em and gyaurde<l 'em, but if yer soil)' awayâ€" Kothiu' lokKv, uiy dauMliterl N itliiu' at all to aay lou 'I<)n't rikoUsct her, I reck m '/ No ; you WMU t a year old then I Aiid r.M» yer- how old air you 7 Why, child. n<it "twentyl" When'.' And yer nri birthday a in Aprilo'/aud you want Mgit Miarrted that day'? . I wixht yer inothei' waa livin'lâ€" but - i ..ain tgut Duthlu' tuaayl *>wenty"fc»r' and aagoofl K gyri •â- Â» jiareut ever Tound ' Wiare'i. aatraw knt^'hed oiitn yor rtrBm there I IJbrexli it offâ€" turn round, (llcr metier wa( ;itat twenty wlien iia two rvM Kothl.a' .to aay, my daaghterl Nothin' at all C-' My 'â-  -Jam'tWIiitmmb ttiltl). Wift*?" he kslwd, â- miling ; " h»ve yon'ahe inrprised him by making • perfect finiahed y oar grapesâ€" km I keeping you little hostesa, and never aeemed too shy to waiting ?" i chat in her pretty, modoet manner to his " Oh I I am in no hurry," she returned, guesta. Ail Sir Hugh's maeoulme friends calmly. " I am going to enjoy my grapes fell in love with her, aud the ladies petted here ; it is so dull at the other end of the â-  and made much of her. table;" and she chatted merrily to him, Fay was very grateful to them for their while Hugh drank his cofifee, and then , kindness, but she liked beet to be alone in ooaxed him up into the " blue nestie." I the old Uall. Hugh took all her thanks very graciously. She had a hundred sources of amuse- He wag pleased that her innocent tastes ' ment ; she would follow Mrs. Heron from should be gratified ; he never imagined for | room to room, listening to her stories of a moment that she thought he had chosen ' many a dead Redmond ; or coax her to all the pretty nick-nacks round them. show the old treasures of tapestry and lace; He had said everything suitable to a , or she would wander through the gardens lady's boudoir was to be provided, and the ' and woods with her favorite Nero and Bir people had done it very well. He had given i Hugh's noble St. Bernard, Pierre, them carff KuHoAc, and it was certainly She made acquaintance with every man, a very pretty little room ; and then he ' woman and child about the place, and all watched Fay presiding over her tea-table, ' the animals besides ; when the spring came and listened placidly to her ecstasy over she knew all t^e calves and lambs by name, thelovely old china cups, and the dear little all the broodlBf chickens and ducklings; antiqtiated silver cream jug, and the tiny I she visited the stables and the spoons ; and for a little while her bright- yards till every helper and boy ness infected him. But presently, when premises knew her bright face Outuld* the Uarden Gate. i'wu little forma out aide tlin gate, Wlio hour b) hour in patiemo wait; l''i'Ur wiHtful eyi'H an briijlit aa atara IVeping with wonrler thr lU^h the ban; f'l-ur little handa that h ns to hold Irlgbl tlowera, or apples r«l :ind gold Two Hhrill youuR voicen tli il would ui. " (live ut. some nowera (u fruit ti>-d»yl Only -what little tongur coul 1 daio Abk h'ich a boon from lady fair? Hie oiuiw! and down tlio vulvol walk Mjve . gently, and with Kilvor tilk Bifioili-- the time; her coniraloM glide Id pleaHaiit couverae by Iier .side. 'Dun do not aee the oaKnr eyea VVho watch them with glad a irprlae To ruatic judgment, they mini ai»Mii l>ike white rol>uil angein iu n dream, hi' fair, ao graceful, and ».) bloat (a bu«b aweet garden bo»ii« to reat, And ns doubt plucking many a g«m Which aeema ko far away from them I Alat! how oft our mortal foto Eeepa iia out«ide the gardun gate Almoat we feel we might bii there, pandering amid tlioae acunoa ao fair; AlmOHt our Bngera B<»eTn to riatp Bclgbt flowers, that atill eluJu our grasp; Si.iije odverae fortune aeeiiM to aay, â- "ri,. 'lot for thee, so, go thy Hay!" -Chavif'frH* Jfntniai SIR HUGH'S LOVES ♦ â€" '. Wii wanted t<i fwl his anus louud her, *nd t.oli out all hnr 8traiigciU'H.H ; and now «Ln o^ro in the bU&pe of tlie grey-haired |>atler had shut lier u|> in a great, brilliantly- lighted room, wlu-ru the tiny, white <roman saw harself reflected in tliu long mirrors. Fay, standing dejet^teil and pale in tlie centre of the room, felt like H"«uty in the iteass's palace, and was djcuuiiug out the â- tory in her old childiuh way, wlieii the door was Hung suddenly open, and the trince, in the [lerson of Kir Hugh, made is a^ipearance. . Shu ran towards him with a little cry ; i)ut Homethiiigin hia look checked her, and rtio stood hobitatiiig and coloring aahocanio bp to lior and offered hi.'! arm. •' l''llerton has aiinouiiced dinner," lio said, quietly ; " draw your scarf round you, for the Hall is cold. You look very pice, dear," he continued, kindly, looking »t tie dainty little bit of loveliuoss beside Ilim with rritioslly approving eyes ; " you should always wear wliitu in the evening, ^ay:" and then, as they entered the dinii-g room, he placed her at the head of the table, |.'oor child, it seemed all very solemn and stately, with Kllerton and two other foot- knen to wait on them ; to he devided from her l.usband by silver epurgnes and choice flowers, to have to peep hutween the ferns ftud (lowers for a sight of the golden -brown beard. Mo wonder lier little talk died kwa) , and she stammered in her replies, •nd then blushed and felt discomposed. ' ^hc thought she was playing her part very ' Awkwardly, and was ashamed of herself * for Hugh's sake, never dreaming that the k very servants who waited on her were ^ vronclering at the radiant young creature. ' Everything comes to an end in this world, • And so did this ordeal ; for after what jMcmad to her endless oonrses, the door closed on the retiring sorvaiita, and she and 1 ^r husband were left alone together ; and ivhen Sir Hugh wokti up from a brief fusing lit he found Fay at his end ot the table watching him. " Why ! what brings you hers, Wee she came and nestled against him and told him how happy she was, and how dearly she meant to love her new home, the old look of pain came back on his face ; and telling her that he knew hia Wee Wifie was tired and must go to bed, he kissed her twice, and then putting her hurriedly from him, went downstairs. And when ha got into his library and saw the lamp lighted, and the lire burning brightly, he gave a sigh of relief at finding himself alone, and threw himself down in his easy-chair. And that night, long after Fay had firayed that she might be worthy of Hugh's ove, and make him happy, and had fallen asleep in the old oak bed with a child's utter weariness, did Hugh sit with his aching head buried on his arms, thinking how he should bear it, and what ho would do with his life ! And BO the home life began, which was far more tolerable to Sir Hugh than his continental wanderings had been ; when he rode over his estate and Fay'sâ€" the Wyngate lands adjoining, from morning until late afternoon, planning, building, re- storing, or went into Pierrepoint on .magis- terial business; happy if at night he was so weary with exercisu that rest was a pleasure and his little wife's manipulations sweet. All the surrounding gentry for miles round came to call at the Hall, and were loud in their praises of the sweet-faced bride ; but the lierrers were not among them â€" all those winter months Bir Hugh never saw Margaret. No, though the Orange and the Hall were but two miles apart, they never met ; though many a time Bir Hugh had to turn his horse into some niiry lane, or across some ploughed Held, to escape her as she went to and fro amoug the way- side cottages. Neither did they meet at the various u uuu^ui tlie_poi >y agk.t >ce wr, veaMUp ultry t the and ry gtntle >m die I 1^ were ready to vow that a 8WeaMi(*poken creature never lived than the yoQOg Lady Redmond. And she would prattle to Hugh all through the long dinner, beguiling him by her (luaint bright stories ; and when he went into the library â€"she never could coax him after that hrst evening into her •' blue nestie " â€" she would follow him and sit her- self at his feet with her work or book, perfectly content if he sometimes stroked her hair, or with a sudden feeling of com- punction stooped over her and kissed her brow, for ho was always very gtntle with her, and Fay adored him from jfae depths of her innocent heart CHAPTER XIII THAI BOOM or MBH. WA'T 'â- > 1 Soft hair on which light drnpa a diadem. Ukhai.dUasbbt. With hands ao flower like, aoft and fair, Hhe caught at life with words aa tweet Aa tlrat apriiig violets. Ibid. No, it was not a bad room, that room of Mrs. Watkins', seen just now in the Novem- ber dusk, with its bright fire and neat hearth, with the kettle gossiping deliciously to itself ; there was at ouce something com- fortable and home-like about it ; especially aa the red curtains were drawn across the two windows that looked down into High street, and the great carts that had been rambling underneath them since daybreak had given place te the jolting of lighter vehicles which passed and repassed at intervals. The room was large, though a little low, and was plainly but comfortably furnished ; an old-fashioned crimson couch stood in one corner ; some stained bookshelves con- tained a few well-bound books ; and one or two simple engravings in chea^ frames adorned the wall. In spite of the simplicity entertainments â€" dinner parties and dances of the whole there were evidences of retiued that were given in honor of the bride. That tasteâ€" there were growing ferns in tall winter Margaret declined all invitations ; baskets ; some red leaves and autumn her brother needed herâ€" and she had never bt^rries arranged in old china vases; a cared much (or gaietyâ€" thia was her only beautiful head of Clyte, though it was only excuse. But Bir Hugh knew why he never in plaster of Paris, on the mantelpiece, met herâ€" her high sense of honor kept them The pretty tea service on the round table apart â€" neither of them had lived down . was only white china, hand-painted ; and their nain ; in the future it might be pos- 1 some more red leaves with dark chry- stble for her to be Ilia friend, and the Iriead «knthemti«ia ware tastotlK^^ airaoged in a of his wife ; but now it could hardly be ; I low wicker bavket in the centre, and yet Margaret was longing, craving 1 Onu glance would have convinced even a intensely to see the lovely young creature ' stranger that this room was inhabited by of whom every one was speaking, and whom poople of cultured taste and small means ; already she loved by report. { and it was so pleasant, so home-like, so Strange to say, no one spoke about the warm with ruddy firelight, that grander Ferrers to Fay ; people were too well ao- rooms would have looked oomfortleas in (|uaiutei with the story of Sir Hugh's engagement to Margaret to venture on a hint. Unce Fay asked a lady with whom she was driving, who lived iu that ijuaint old house on the SandyclifTu road '/ and was told briefly that the blind vicar, Mr. comparison. There wore only two people on this November eveningâ€" a girl lying back in a rocking-chair, with her eyes fixed thoughtfully on the dancing flames, and a child of 10, though looking two or three years younger, sitting on a stool before the Ferrers, lived there with his sister. ' tire, with a black kitten asleep on her lap. Fay would have put some more questions, and her arms clasi«Hl around her knees, but Mrs. Sinclair turned the subject rather ^ An odd, weird sort ot child, with a head (juickly ; but Fay recurred to it that even- running over with little dark curls, and ing. largo wondering eyesâ€" not an ordinary •• Why have not the Ferrers called on us, <;hild, and certainly not a pretty one, and Hugh ';"" she asked, suddenly, when she looking, at the present moment, with her was keeping him company iu the library. ) wrinkle<l eyebrows and huddle-np tigure. Sir Hugh Htartod, and then jumped up like a little old witch i« a fairy tale, to ropleiiiah the fire. 1 '• 1 am that tired," observed the child, " Who told you about them '1'" he asked, apparently apostrophising the kettle, as he tried to break a refractory coal. ; â- â-  that not all the monkeys in the Zoological Mrs. Sinclair. I was driving with her Ciardens could make me laugh ; no, not if this afternoon, and I asked her who lived in that re<l brick house with the curious garbles, on the HandyolifTe road, and she 1 said it was the blind vicar, Mr. Ferrers, and his aister; doa't you like them, Hugh? every one else has called, and it seems rather strange that they should take no notice." " Well, you see, it is a little awkward," returned her husband, still wrestling with the ooal, while Fay watche<l the prouuss with interest ; " they used to be friends of mine, but we have hadauiiBanderstanding, and now, of course, there is a coolness." •' And they are nice people." " Very nice people ; he is a very clever man, but wo do not agree- that is all ;"and then Hugh disposed of the coal and took up his paper, and Fay did not like to disturb hlni with any more i|nestions. It seeiiiud a great pity, she thought, it was such a lovely house : and if Mr. Ferrers were a nice clever man and then she wondered what hia sister was like ; and aa they had the old father baboon at their head. I wish I were a jaguar I" " Why, Fluff 7" exclaimed a pleasant voio« from the rocking-chair. " Why, Fluff?" " I wish I were a jaguar,'' rciioated the child, defiantly " not a bison, because of its humps, nor acainel either. Why, those great spotted cats had their balls to amuse them, and polished ivory bones as well ; and the brown bear climbed his pole, and ate buns ; no one's mother left in the dark before the fire, with no one to tell its tales, and only a kettle to talk to a i>erson ;" and Fluff curled hcraelf up on her stool with an affronted air. The elder girl made no answer, but only stooiied down and smilingly lifted the child and kitten on her lapâ€" she was very light for her age whereupon Fluff left off sigh- ing, and rubbed her ourly head against her sister's shoulder with a contented air. The liiters wore certainly very unlike, being very sinall and dark, while Fern was tall and fair ; witheut being exactly she sat at Hugh's foet basking in the tlre- . ," . , .( . ir 1^, « > J wan vail mill lait : wikiiwub uuiiil; eAniJiiiT light she had no idea that Hiigh s forehead ^^^^^^ ^j^^ j.^r mother's beauty, she had a «..« nlntirluH anH iiii«<Unrefl with tlAln. 1< av fl '^, . . .. J L • M cliarining face, soft grey eyes, and hair of ,, that golden-brown that one sees ho often them - " was clouded and puckered with pain. Fay's innocent i|iiostioii8 had raised a storm in his breast. Would she speak of them j,^ j.,,, ,i^,, â- ^^^ again ? was there any danger that people ,^,,^,1;^ ^^^^ ,^^ . ^^^ jjj ,,^j ^^^^^^^ would gossip to her 7 one day he might be ^em Tafford decidedly pretty; her features obliged to tell her himself, but not now, ^^^^ ^^^ ^^^^j, fj ^^^^ ,j^^ coloring she seemed so happy, so nerfoctly con- was lovely, and there was a joyousness and tented, and she was aiich a child. brightness about her that attracted old Yes, Hugh's Wee Wifie was very happy. ^ At first, to be sure, her position was a little difticiil* and irksome. The number of servants bewildered her ; she wished Mrs. Heron would not interlard her con- versation with BO many " my ladya," and that Hugh would rido with her oftenor instead of that tiresome groom. But by and by she got used to her dignity, and would drive her grey ponies through the country roads, stopping to livery poke well of her, she was so simple, ao un selfish, so altogether charming, as they said. Fern never complained of the narrow- ness of her life, never fretted because their poverty excluded her from the pleasures girls of her age generally enjoyed. From her childhood she had known no other life. There were times when she remembered r.- .,..,- , â-  - 1 that she had gone to bed hungry, times speak to any old villager she knew ; or she ^,,g„ ,,„^ mother's face looked pinched and would mount Honnio Hess at the hour she niiUBrable-when her father was dying, thought Hugh would be returning from »nd they thought Baby Florence would die PierreiKjiiil, and gaUop through the lanea ^^^ Somehow Fern never cared to think to meet him and reign up at his side, start- ^^ ^1,^^^^ ^ ling him from his abstraction with that , j,,^^^ ^^^^ devoted to her mother, she ringing laugh of hers I clave to her with innocent love and loyalty. Bhe was seldom Idle, and never (tun. ^ Puroy'a defection had been the bitterest When riir Hugh would hayo shooting jj.g,,j,,^ ^^ ^^^^ j^j^ ^.j^^ ^j^, ^^j,y j,^^^„ parties, Shu always carried the luncheon to ^^^ ^^^^^^ ^^^^^^ ^, j^jj ^j^^^ gj,^ ^^^^ the sportsmen, driving through the woort thin and pale and large-eyed, as girls will in her pony-carnage ; when her hnsbaml „hen they are fretting and growing at the began to return hia neighbor s hospitality, ^^^^ ^.^^ ^^,^ inotherly heart was touched with oompaMion for her child. Bhe wished, if possible, to suffer alone ; if it were in her power she would prevent the faintest shadow touching that bright young life. So she spoke to her in her oalm, sensible way, for Nea was always gentle with her children, and Fern was very dear to herâ€" she had her father's eyes, and Maurice's pure upright nature seemed transmitted to his young daughter. " Fern," she said, one evening when they were sitting together in the twilight, " yon must not add to my burthens ; it makes me still more unhappy to see you fretting ; I miss my little daughter's brightness that used to be such a comfort to me." " Am I a comfort to you, mother 7" asked Fern, wistfully, and something in those earnest grey eyes thrilled the widow's heart with fresh pangs of memory. " You are my one bit of sunshine," she answered, fondly, taking the girl's face between her hands and kissing it almost passionately. " Keep bright for your poor mother's sake. Fern." Fern never forgot thia little speech. She understood, thee, that her mission was to be her mother's comforter ; and with the utmost sweetness and unselfishness she put aside her own longings for her brother, and strove to make up for his loss. So Fern bloomed iu her poor home like some lovely flower in a cottage garden, growing up to womanhood in those rooms over Mra. Watkins'. Fern had long since finished her educa- tion, and now gave morning lesaona to the vicar's little daughters. In her leisure hours she made her simple gowns and Flufi's frocks, and taught the child the little she could be pursuaded to learn, for Fluff was a spoilt child and very backward for her age ; and one or two people. Mrs. Watkins among them, had given it as their opinion that little Florence was not all there, rather odd and uncarny in tact. Fern waa quite contented in her life. She was fond ot teaching and very fond of her little pupils. Her pleasures were few and simple ; a walk with Crystal or Fluff to look at the shops, perhaps an omnibus journey and an hour or two's ramble in the Park of Kensington Garden, a cosy chat with her mother in the evenings, some- times, on grand occasions, a shiUing seat at the Monday or Saturday Popular. Fern loved pretty things, but she seemed quite satisfied to look at them through plate glass ; a new dress, a tew flowers, or a new book were events in her life. She would sing over her work as she sat sewing by the window ; the gay young voice made people lookup, but they seldom caught a glimpse of thegolden-brown head behind thecurtain. Fern had her dreams, like other girls ; sometimes, she hardly knew what would happen to her some day. There waa always a prince in the fairy stories that she told Fluff, but she never described him. " What is he like V" Fluff would ask with childish impatience, but Fern would only blush and smile, and say she did not know. If, sometimes, a handsome boyish face, not dark like Percy, but with fair, budding moustache aud laughing eyes, seemed to rise out of the mist and look at her with odd wistfulness. Fern never spoke of it ; a sort of golden haze pervaded it. Some- times those eyes were elofjuent, and seemed appealing to her ; a strange meaning per- vaded the silence ; in that poor room blossomed all sorts of aweet fancies and wonderful dreama aa Fern's needle flew through the stuff. As Fluff rubbed her rough head confid- ingly against her shoulder. Fern gave a musical little laugh that was delicious to hear. " You absurd child," she said, in an amused tone, " I really must tell Mr. Krie not to take you again to the Zoological (iardens ; you talk of nothing but boars and jaguars. So you want a story, you are (lositively insatiable. Fluff ; how am I to think of one with my wits all wool-gather- ing and gone a-wandering like Uopeep's sheep '.> It must be an old one. Which is it to be ? ' The Choolate House,' or â-  Prin- cess Dove and the Palace of the Hundred Hoys.'" " Humph," returned Fluff, musingly ; " well, I hardly know. The Chocolate House ' is very nice, with its pathway (wved with white and pink sugar plums, and its barley-sugar chairs ; and don't you remem- ber that when Hans waa hungry he broke a little brown bit off the roof ; but after all, I think I like ' Princesa Dove and the I'alaoe of the Hundred Boys ' best. Let us go on where you left off." " Where we left off ?" repeated Fern in her clear voice. " Yes, I recollect. Well, when Prince Happy-Thought â€" " " Merrydew," corrected the child. " Ahâ€" trueâ€" well, when it came to Prince Merrydew's turn to throw the golden ball, it went right over the moon and came down the other side, so Princess Dove proclamed him victor, and gave him the sapphire crown ; and the hundred boys and â€" where was I, Fluff â- >•• " In the emerald meadow, where the ruby flowers grew," returned Fluff. " Go on. Fern." " So Princess Dove put on the crown, and it waa so heavy that poor Prince Merrydew'a head began to ache, and the wicket old fairy Do-nothing, who waa look- ing on, hobbled on her golden orutchoa to the tuniuoise pavilion, and- hush I I hear footsteps. iTuinp off my lap. Fluffy, dear, and let me light the candles." And she had scarcely done so before there was a quick tap at the door, and the next moment two young men entered the room. Fluff ran to them at once with a pleased exclamation. " Why, it is Percy and Mr. Erie ; oh dear, how glad I am." "How do you do, Toddlekius," observed her brother, stooping to kiss the child's cheek, and patting her kindly on the head ; " how are you, you dark-eyed witch," but as he spoke, his eyes glanced anxiously round the room. " We never expected to see you to-night, Percy, dear,' observed Fern, as she greeted him affectionately, and then gave her hand with a slight blush to the young man who was following him. " Mother will be so sorry to miss you ; she was obliged to go out again. One of the girlsai; MissMartin- galu's is ill, and Miss Theresa seems fidgety about her, so mother said she would ait with the invalid for an hour or two." " I suppose Miss Davenport is outtoo " â€" walking to the fireplace to warm hia hands. " Yes, dear ; there ia a children'a party at the Nortons' ; it ia little Mora's birth- day, and nothing would satisfy the child until Crystal promised to go and play with them. It is only an early affair, and ehe will be back soon, ao Fluff and I are watt- ing tea for her." " You look very snug here. Miss Traf- ford," observed the other young man, whom Fluff had railed Mr. Erie. By tacit con- sent his other name was never uttered in that house ; it would have been too painful for Mrs. Trafford to hear him addressed •â-  Mr. Huntingdon. The young men were complete contrasts to each other. Percy Trafford was tall and alight, he had his mother's fine profile and regular features, and waaa singularly hand- some young man ; his face would have beea almoat perfect, except for the weak, irreso- lute mouth, hardly hidden by the dark moustache and a somewhat heavilj moulded chin that expreaaed suUenness and perhaps ill-governed passions. The bright-faced boy. Nea's first-bom and darling, had aadly deteriorated during the yeara that he Ilad lived under hia grand- father's roof. His selfishness had takem deeper root ; he had become idle and self- indulgent ; his one thought was how to amuse himself best. In his heart he had no love for the old man, who had given him the shelter of hia roof, and loided him with kindnesi ; but all the same he waa secretly jealoiu of hia cousin Erie, who, aa he told himself Mtterly, had supplanted him. Percy'* conscience reproached him at times fqr his desertion of hia widowed mother. He knew that it was a shabby thing for him to be living in luxury, while she worked for her daily bread ; but after ail, he thought it was more her fault thaa his. She 4rould have none of his gifts ; she would not bend her proud spirit to seek s reconciliation with her father, though Percy felt sure that the old man bad long ago re- pented his harshnesa ; and yet, when he had hinted this to hia mother, she had abso- lutely refused to listen to him. " It ia too late. Percy. I have no father now." she had returned in her firm aad voice, and her face had looked marble as she spoke. Percy was rather in awe of his grand- father. Mr. Huntingdon had grownharder and more tryannical as the yeara passed on. Neither of the young men ventured *• oppose his iron will. He was fond of his grandbon, proud ot his good looks and aristocratic air, and not dispesed to quarrel with him because he was a little wild. " Young men would be young men." waa » favorite saying of his ; he had used it before in the case of Lord Ronald Cower. But his nephew Erie was really dearer to the old man's heart. But then every on« liked Brie Huntingdon, he was so sweet- tempered aud full of life, so honest and frank, and so thoroughly unselfish. He was somewhat short, at least beside Percy, and his pleasant boyish faoe had no claims to good looks. Be had the ruddy youthful air of a young David, and thera was something of an innocence of the sheep-fold about him. All women liked Erie Huntingdon. H« was so gentle and chivalrous in his manner to them ; he never seemed to think of him- self when he waa talking to them ; and his bonhomie and gay good humor made him a charming companion. Erie never underatood himself how oarea- siiig his manners could be at times. Hs liked all women, old and young, but only one b«d leally touched hia heart. It wps strange, then, that more than one hoped that she had found favor in hiseyes. Erie's sunshiny nature made him a universal favorite, but it may be doubted whether any of his friends really read him correctly. Now and then an older man told him hs wanted ballast, and warned him not to carry that easy good nature too far or it might lead him into mischief ; but ths spoilt child of fortune only shook his head with a laugh. But in reality Erie Huntingdon's'charao- ter wanted blaokbone ; hia will, not a stiong one, was likely to be dominated by a stronger. With all his pleasantness and natural good qualities he was vauillatioc and weak ; if any pressure or difficulty should oome into his life, it would be likely for him to be weighed in the balance and found wanting. At present his life had been smooth and uneventful ; he had yet to taste thehollow- neaa of human happiness, to learn that the highest sort of life is not merely to bs cradled in luxury aud to fare sumptuously even day. The purple and fine linen are good enough in their way, and the myrrh and the aloes and the cassia, but what does the wise man say -" Rejoice, O young man, in thy youth ; and let thy heart cheer thee in the days of thy youth, and walk in the ways of thine heart, and in the sight of thine eyes ; but know thou, that tor aU these things Ood will bring thee into judgment . . . for childhood and youth at« vanity." Erie knew that a new interest bad lately come into his life ; that a certain shabl^ room, that was yet more homelike to him than any room in Balgrave House, was always before hia eyes : that a girl in a brown dress, with sweet wistful eyes, was never absent from his memory. Neither Fern nor he owned the truth to theiiiaelvea ; they were ignorant as yet that they were commencing the first chapter of their life-idyll. Fern had a vague sense that the room was brighter when Erie waa there looking at her with those kindly glances. Bhe never owned to herself that he waa her prince, and that she had found favor in his eyes. She waa far too humbls for that ; but she knew the days were some- how ).lorified and transfigured when she had aeen him, and Erie knew that no faoe waa ao lovely to him as this girl's face, no voice half so sweet in hia ears, and yet people were beginning to connect his name with Miss Selby, Lady Maltravers' beauti- ful niece. He was thinking of Miss Selby now as be looked across at Fern. She had taken up her work again, and Percy had thrown himself into the rocking chair beside her with a diacM^nted expression on his faoe. He was telljHMpself that Miss Selby waa handaome, W^Hlie strikingly handsome ; but somehow she laolntl this girl's aweet graoiousness. Just then Fern raised her eyes, and a quick sensitive wlor came into her face as she cnoouwred his fixed glance. " Ah, tlo you know, Miai Trafford," he ^i said quickly, to put her at her ease, "I > have promised to spend OhliBtmas with *' \ my cousin, Sir Hugh RedmOnd. I am rather anxious to see hia wife. Report says she is rather a pretty girl." " I did not know Sir Hugh Redmond was your cousin," returned Fern, without raising her eyes from her work. (To be aontiBQSd.) ' â- \ Ai.rJtft,..' ^. «â- â- :